Amelia, Run!

Friday, 24 of December

The idea of running away did cross my mind but where would I go? What about the university? What about my family and friends? All these questions were running through my mind and I think it affected my sanity more than the lack of sleep. When my phone turned midnight I expected the worse but I realized that whoever wrote the post-it note and the letter didn’t exactly put an exact hour so they could come in any moment. That made every second an agony. The anticipation was killing me. (Literally)

Why did it have to be Christmas Eve? I love the holidays, especially back in Puerto Rico: the buffet, the music, the alcohol, and the present. It didn’t matter how old you were, you always got something. For the older kids it was money, lots of money. Since I had a big family, every uncle and aunt, great uncle and great aunt, every grandmother and grandfather gave me at least 10 to 20 dollars. One Christmas I had over tree hundred bucks (and counting because January 6th there was another holiday that, in other words, was like a second Christmas—the same concept about parties and gifts but instead of being Santa Claus it was the Three Wise Kings.) and this is without adding my family from my father’s side.

Before this hell happened, I had plans with my friends. We would eat, give each other presents, hang out and watch some movies and drink. Good thing I already bought the presents because this week would have been impossible. The only thing I didn’t do was mail my sister’s gift… I totally forgot about that.

It was a book called Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs. She loves those kinds of books. Ever since I can remember, she was always the odd one. We were never that close but when we enter our twenties we got pretty close—as cliché as it sounds. We always had fights and I resented her somewhat because mom always protected her. I thought it was because she was her favorite but later I realized that that was not the case. Yennefer was only one year and two months younger than me and since we were little, we were always together (even though we fought a lot like I mentioned). They dressed us the same, made our hair the same and bought us the same things. This caused people to think we were twins and/or to mistake us with each other. (I didn’t realize we looked a lot that much and I always hated it to a point where I didn’t see it because we were so different in terms of personalities. It wasn’t until I took a picture recently that I noticed that we do resemble a lot.)

After she graduated from high school she bleached her hair and painted with different colors. But there was a time—two years actually where she just painted it turquoise. That was the time when she was the most distant. Her statement was loud and clear and that caused her some trouble with mom. Her worry was that she couldn’t get a job. Yennefer even pierced her tongue. It wasn’t until recently when she went to visit our family back in the island that her hair was complete silver. Well, since I could remember she always had individual strands of grey hair. It was hereditary. In the light it looked like it glowed. (I made fun her, saying she looked like a grant but I am woman enough to admit that I was actually jealous.) I have them also but since my hair was lighter than hers it wasn’t noticeable.

When I asked her why, she said that everything was clearer now. She was a new Yennefer. She was reborn.

I never understood what she meant. I just dismissed it as another odd moment.

Mom almost fainted, though.

I remember one day, back in Puerto Rico, I was at my grandmother’s apartment and we started looking around her box full of photos. She always had photos. Yennefer and I never smiled, which I found odd. Mom was always smiling and you could tell she meant it when her eyes were a bit closed. Right after she divorced dad, the pictures showed me that her smiles were forced because her eyes were more open. It wasn’t until she remarried that she started to look like her old self. In each photo we looked at the camera with intense eyes. I don’t remember why—I do admit I was a little weird. I guess that is why it’s hard for me to smile or give a “photogenic” smile.

Hours had passed and it was eight in the morning. I took my phone and texted my sister. The text said that I forgot to mail her present and that I would give it to her on New Year’s, since I promised mom that I would go to Pittsburgh. She replied saying that it was OK and that she couldn’t wait. After I realized what I said, I gave myself a mental face palm since I didn’t know if I was going to be alive by then.

I heard someone knocking on the door. I got up and checked myself in the mirror. I had eye bags the size of a continent and dark as the night, my eyes were irritated and red, and I was pale and somewhat green. I couldn’t stand the sight of me. I went to the bathroom, made a bad ponytail, washed my face and made sure that what I put on my mouth was mouth wash. When I reached the door I hesitated. What if the person who made the notes was at the other side of it?

I took a step back. My hand was shaking.

“Open the door, Amelia.” Said Brad. “I can see your shadow under the door.” I sighed and opened it. I tried to be as normal as possible. “Jesus H. Christ! Woman! Go to the hospital!” that gave me a headache.

“Good day to you too, Brad. What’s up?” I said as I rested my shoulder over the corner of the door, slipped, staggered and then recovered my stance and crossed my arms as if nothing had happened.

“Uh—well, Rey called me and told me what happened and—” I groaned. “What the hell happened?”

I turned around and pressed the bridge between my eyes with my fingers. “I-I don’t want to talk about it, ok? I don’t feel good and I don’t want to think of anything.”

“Dude, you got fired because you got into a fight with a guy and—”

I snapped. “Don’t you think I know that!? I was there! Geez…” a pang of pain pierced my head. “Why do you always give me a headache?” I yelled.

Brad was speechless. I had never yelled at him like that—well, there was one time when I did when he kept pushing me to tell Veronica how I really lost my virginity—at 22 this might sound stupid but considering how I look it’s a miracle that I got laid in the first place, so it is a huge deal. I told him to hush it because it’s not his call and not her business. I still haven’t told her. The circumstances of how I did it are not worthy of her ears and I am afraid she would judge me. All I have to say is that I am human and I make mistakes.

Suddenly I craved a smoke. My fingers desired a cigarette between them; I licked my lips and swallowed a bit of saliva. I felt like I needed the dense smoke in my mouth as it goes to my lungs and then the satisfaction of blowing it out. I extended my palm slowly. “Give me a cigarette.” He was stunned even more. “Don’t give me that look. I know you are still smoking. You know very well that you can’t lie to me. You may fool Veronica and Amanda but not me. Now GIVE ME ONE!” it sounded like a threat.

I gasped. I took a step back and went to the sofa and covered my face with my hands. I wanted to cry. First I was losing my mind, then I lost my job and now I’m gonna lose my friends. I felt something over my shoulder. I looked to my right and it was Brad’s with a cigarette. My eyes were teary and one tear rolled down. He looked down on me, a bit cold and I didn’t blame him. I took the cigarette.

“You’re obviously going through something, I don’t know what and I am worried about you. But I know when to leave you alone. When you calm down and feel better and not bitter, call me.” He walked to the door and closed it.

I held the cigarette between my fingers and then dropped it. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them again it was nightfall. I stood up startled. Did I fell asleep? Impossible! My breath quickened. Everything seemed fine. The room was dark and the only thing that emitted light was the clock on the microwave: it was 5:30 p.m.

There was a particular smell but I decided to ignore it.

I took the cigarette from the floor and placed it on top of my ear, pinching it—something that my grandmother does when she wants to smoke. My phone was on my room so I went to get it and went back to the sofa. I felt something on my other hand, I opened my fist and it was a white lighter. It was little compared to my big hand. I placed the cigarette between my lips and let it hang a bit until I was ready to light it.

It felt like the typical scene from a movie where they blind fold the person, make them stand in front of a wall, place the cigarette, light it and ask for any last words before they execute them. As I rest my back against the cushions of the sofa, I saw my big belly and slapped it. There was no reason behind it. Just felt like doing it since it gave me a since of control. When I finally decided to light it up, there was another knock on the door. It was probably Brad or Amanda or Veronica or the sender of the letters. At this point I really didn’t care. Or so I thought.

In the distance I could hear a faint voice behind the door. It was a female voice and she was singing: “You better watch out,” my eyes winded. “You better not cry” I straightened my back, “Better not pout,” I bit the cigarette and tried to light up the cigarette but only little, weak sparks came out. “I’m telling you why:” a tear rolled down my cheek.

Then someone kicked the door away, making it fly off its hinges and into the room. I covered my head and the cigarette fell from my lips as I ducked. My heart was racing fast and strong and it was painful. I dropped to the floor. The front of the sofa was like a barricade, on the other side there were the little island and kitchen making a little hall with the back of the furniture. I could hear someone walk inside and I could tell that the person was wearing heels as she walked over the wood chunks of the door until there was a full stop. When I looked up I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The girl was wearing a very revealing Santa Clause outfit. She was wearing a short red dress with long sleeves where the big cuffs were covered in white, fluffy fur—the same with the lapels where the end of it would go down her breasts, revealing them a bit and then tied with a big leather belt. Also, she had high knee heel boots which had big plush cuffs, and net tights. The girl took a big breath and opened her red lips and sang: “SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN!”

There was complete silence. The girl placed her hand on her hip and looked over the sofa and made eye contact with me and smiled, cocking her head to the side. “Hello, Amelia. I am glad you waited for me.”

I stood up slowly.

“You wrote the post-it note?”

Nari nodded and then made a peace sign with her fingers.